


Anon Hatefucks a Coworker

by Changed_Daily



Category: Hmofa
Genre: F/M, Hate Sex, Vaginal Sex, Wolf Anthro, greentext
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-18
Updated: 2020-12-18
Packaged: 2021-03-10 21:07:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,524
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28153605
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Changed_Daily/pseuds/Changed_Daily
Summary: Title says it all. Anon runs into a workplace enemy at a bar and they use each other to get their frustrations out.
Kudos: 7





	Anon Hatefucks a Coworker

>Be Anon.  
>Work a soulless 9 to 5 job.  
>Engineering Firm because you fell for the STEM meme.  
>2 years after you start a set of new hires comes in, including her.  
>Whitney is a white wolf anthro who brings a new meaning to the word "bitch".  
>You don't even remember what you fucking did to get on her bad side, maybe made her spill her coffee?  
>Doesn't matter, whatever it was she uses it as an excuse to make your life a living hell.  
>Whitney gets placed in your department.  
>Makes it a habit to steal pens from your desk every day.  
>When you point it out to her she shrugs.  
>"I thought they were mine from home"  
>They were in your cup on your desk, no one else in this damned department uses fountain pens.  
>You spent good money on those pens.  
>Two can play at that game.

>wait for Whitney to go on lunch break.  
>go up to her desk and steal all of her staples.  
>other coworkers notice, you get them to look the other way.  
>she comes back and tries to staple a report an hour later.  
>tries to use it twice before opening it up, can't find any spares.  
>you and coworkers start to chuckle.  
>she glares at you and walks to your desk.  
>"Did you steal my staples?"  
>open up your desk and make a massive show of not knowing where the staples could be before opening the drawer where you hid them.  
>"I don't know, I thought they were mine from home. Almost identical you know?"  
>coworkers start to chuckle.  
>Whitney blushes, takes a row of staples and storms back to her own desk.

>a week later Whitney fires back.  
>Tuesday morning when you sat down you got thumbtacks in your ass.  
>she must have come in early to place them in your cushion.  
>you'd be impressed if your ass wasn't so sore.  
>entire department made fun of you for the whole day.  
>she always brings lunch in every day.  
>make a habit of stealing an item every other day, one day her water bottle, another her chips.  
>make a point to eat it as loud as possible whenever she walks by.  
>clearly starting to piss her off based on how she talks to you.

>What started out as mostly harmless pranks or taunting escalated into a psychotic competition on who can screw each other over harder.  
>Whitney gets placed onto your team for a project.  
>She refuses to talk to you, and spends her time collaborating other team members.  
>You're starting to get worried what she's up to, but finish drawing up a prototype for your project.  
>You send it to other team members.  
>the bitch scrubs your name from the files and hands it in for the rest of the group.  
>Your Boss gives group bonus for impressive work, chastises you for not doing your fair share.  
>You decide to sit on contrary evidence for now and come up with revenge scheme.  
>Purchase a flash drive identical to hers.  
>Stay late one night to copy a presentation she's working on.  
>Edit the presentation 6-7 slides in with foul language and naughty images.  
>Replace her flash drive with the presentation with the improved one right before the meeting.  
>Hear gasps and chattering from the board room as well as panic from Whitney.

>Greet her from her walk of shame out of the board room with a smug grin.  
>She grabs your collar with her claws and pins you against the wall.  
>"You fucking prick! I know it was you who sabotaged my presentation! You made me look like a jackass in front of the entire board!"  
>You shove her off and say your own piece.  
>"You wouldn't have gotten that meeting in the first place if you didn't take credit for my work! Ever consider that you dumb bitch?"  
>The crappy old intercom speaker booms.  
>"Anon Mous and Whitney Clawsen to HR, NOW!"  
>The fat fuck Farley from human resources spends an hour and a half explaining to you both how to properly resolve conflicts.  
>You and Whitney are too busy giving each other the death glare to really pay attention to anything he's saying until he mentions more severe punishments in the future if we don't get our acts together.  
>Whitney tells you that from now on you would both keep it civil at work, which you agreed to because you want to keep your job.

>When you get home that night you flop onto the couch and watch the hockey game that you missed.  
>You hear the doorbell ring.  
>"Two large cheese pizzas for a Mr. Mous?"  
>A scrawny teenage cat is standing at the door.  
>You would never order two pies at once, maybe you said two slices?  
>Come to think of it, you didn't order pizza today...  
>Did that bitch seriously pizza bomb you?  
>Sure enough the number on the receipt is Whitney's.  
>Do some quick research and find out she lives in the same building as you.  
>It's on.

>Next morning Whitney asks how dinner was.  
>"Expensive, but I appreciated the surprise."  
>She and a couple of her coworkers laugh.  
>We'll see who's laughing tomorrow.  
>Stop at arts and crafts store.  
>Fill an envelope with glitter and a spring, signing it to Whitney with no return address.  
>Hand it to the doorman to put it in the mailbox, tell him it's urgent.

>You secretly wait for Whitney to come in while doing your own work.  
>An hour after opening, when everyone else figured she'd be a no-show, Whitney walks into work looking like hell.  
>Throws the torn envelope on your desk, some leftover glitter spilling on the floor.  
>You notice she still has a few stray particles of purple in her white coat and giggle.  
>She drags you out of your chair and throws you to the ground.  
>Damn, she's strong.  
>"I was late because of that little stunt you pulled, monkey. I warned you to keep it away from work!"  
>After some wrestling for control and a few thrown punches from both sides, fat fuck Farley comes to break it up.  
>He warns you both that another incident would lead to termination and sends you both home.

>You're pissed off.  
>You weren't the one who made a whole scene in front of the entire department. Why did you both get punished?  
>Moreover, who did that bossy cunt think she was?  
>You know what? It doesn't matter.  
>You were off early on a Friday, and that meant it was a drinking day.  
>You put on a nice dress shirt and a glitter-free pair of pants after taking a shower.  
>Maybe you could get some action tonight? Who knows.

>You walk into your favorite bar at 5 on the dot. Unsurprisingly, it's mostly empty, with most workers being stuck in their cubicles still.  
>The only two people you see are the bartender and a white wolf sitting alone-  
>Damn it.  
>You catch Whitney's eye, and she gives you a glare that can turn a man to stone before burying herself in a drink.  
>You'll follow suit of course.  
>You order two shots. You were never the biggest drinker, so this should get you fucked up pretty quick.

>"Hey, monkey"  
>Whitney is addressing you, it seems. You ignore her and slam back a shot.  
>She grabs onto your shoulder and wheels your stool around.  
>"You speak when spoken to. I wanted to tell you that you were a dumb son of a bitch, and that neither of us would be in this situation if you knew when to quit."  
>This gets you riled up. You get off the stool and set her straight.  
>"Are you fucking dense? Neither of us would be in this position if YOU could manage your damned temper for one minute."  
>Whitney stands up and gets closer to you. Her breath smells like vodka.  
>"You always take it too far. I hit you with something light and you always try to embarrass me. You almost ruined my career!"  
>"At least I've never made things physical, most of your pranks or outbursts have actually fucking hurt. I could sue your ass poor for assault if I wanted to, bitch."  
>This set Whitney off. She lunges at you, knocking both of you down and leaving you pinned under her ass.

>Both of you just sit there, panting. You can see her blush through her fur, and feel her breath on your face.  
>Was that a rocket in your pocket?  
>Whitney must have noticed too, because she was starting to grind on your erection, causing it to stiffen further.  
>She growls into your ear.  
>"Is this physical enough for you? Let's settle this at my place."

>She didn't have to tell you twice.  
>You and Whitney got up and rushed out the door, leaving behind a frustrated bartender.  
>Whitney practically dragged you through the entrance of your apartment building and you only made it to the elevator before making out.  
>She took a breath to hit the button for her floor and immediately jumped back on you.  
>You spent the entire ride up 8 floors forcing your tongues into each other's mouths, battling for dominance.  
>It was different from most of your previous encounters but pretty pleasant and definitely exciting.

>You stumbled out of the elevator, the bitch in your arms, still locking lips.  
>She handed you her keys, and after a brief interruption of finding the apartment and opening the door, you went back at it.  
>She led you to her bedroom, and you both started to strip.  
>You always knew Whitney had looks, but you never really thought much of it considering the bitch they were attached to. Now though...  
>She was muscular and toned, and despite being only a couple of inches shorter than you (5'7 to your 5'11), she could probably mop the floor with you, if all of those other encounters proved anything.  
>She still retained a distinctly feminine form however, slim, and with small rounded breasts, enough for the hand to hold.  
>Her fur was a bright white, and her eyes were a blue-gray, and betrayed the depths of her intelligence and cunning.  
>The intelligence and cunning that made you resent her so much in the first place.

>"Are you ready to help me get my frustrations out, monkey boy?"  
>The wolfess wore a wide smirk, taking her own turn to admire her partner's body.  
>She attempted to guide you and push you on to the bed.  
>After today's course of events though, that wasn't happening.  
>You grab Whitney and throw her on the bed.  
>"What do you think you're doing?"  
>"You caught a particularly bad case of chronic bitch syndrome last year, and the only cure for it is a rough dicking. Are you ready?"  
>Whitney smirked.  
>"Do you really think you can cure me? I'd love to see you try."

>You spent a few minutes putting on a rubber and positioning yourself on top of her.  
>Whitney started to grow impatient as you mounted her.  
>"Are you in yet, jackass? It's been like 5 minutes since you opened the condom. Or are you just that small?"  
>You roll your eyes while she snickers at her own little jab.  
>You suddenly buck your hips, causing her to yip in surprise.  
>"I don't know, am I small enough for you?"  
>She wraps her arms around your neck as you build up a rhythm, panting into your ear from every thrust.  
>After 7 minutes of thrusting, you start to slow down a little to catch your breath.  
>The bitch, barely recovering herself starts to throw jokes and make fun of you.  
>"I thought humans were supposed to have stamina. Is that all you got?"  
>You glare at her, accepting the challenge and bring the pace back up.  
>Finding it harder to speak, she sputters out another comment that really grinds your gears.  
>"You did pretty good work on the-the assignment for us, m-m-monkey. Thanks for taking one for the team."  
>You throw her onto the bed and pin her down, picking up the pace and slamming against her with full force.  
>As you approach climax, you wrap your hands around Whitney's neck, putting her in a choke-hold.  
>She reacts to this wildly, grabbing you and pulling you closer in.  
>"Never... fuck... with my... work... ever... again... you.. BITCH!"  
>You grunt as you reach orgasm, moving your hands from the wolfess' throat to her shoulders.  
>She brings you in for a toothy kiss.  
>You and Whitney lie in her bed for a couple of minutes, kissing and cuddling, both of you left a panting, sweaty mess.

>After a second round in the shower with your partner, you help each other clean up and order dinner.  
>The alcohol and lust mostly wore off, and both of you got most of your rage out of your system, and so you decided to sit down and talk before the delivery showed up.  
>Funny enough, both of you had similar tastes in movies and music, both being huge fans of the Slaughtersphere movies.  
>You both laugh about the terrible reboot that's coming out, and the conversation starts to shift to work.  
>You ask her why all of this crap even started in the first place.  
>She looks down and thinks for a bit.  
>"I think it started as a way to catch your eye. When I first saw you, I wanted to grab your attention by messing with you a little. You didn't pick up the signal and I got a little miffed, so I started getting more aggressive with the pranks, and I guess that raw emotion shifted into hate."  
>"Do you want to call it a truce then?"  
>Whitney chuckles.  
>"I don't think we really have much of a choice if we want to keep our jobs, so... yeah. Truce."  
>You pour yourself a glass of water from the plastic pitcher on the table.  
>"No hard feelings?"  
>"Nope."  
>"You want to do this again sometime?"  
>She leans forward.  
>"Sure. If you want to set up a date or something I wouldn't be opposed."  
>She winks at you.  
>"But if you want to fuck like that again, well, you know where to find me."

>After you finish eating, the two of you work out a plan to watch the new Slaughtersphere next weekend together.  
>She gives you a kiss and hands you a slip of paper as you walk out the door.  
>It's her personal number.  
>That weekend you send each other a couple of risque photos and chat about silly topics, trying to get cheap laughs out of each other with the occasional shitty meme.

>On your way into work next Monday, aside from a dirty look from one of the higher-ups, everything seems to have gone back to normal.  
>You brush into Whitney on your way to your desk, and you both smile at each other.  
>You reach your desk and sit down to catch up on some of the work you missed from Friday.  
>Come to think of it, didn't you have 9 pens when you left?


End file.
